


Song of Wolves; Dance of Dragons

by LadyVictoriaBlackfyre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Pact of Ice and Fire, F/M, House Stark, Targaryen Princess marries a Stark, The Dance of Dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVictoriaBlackfyre/pseuds/LadyVictoriaBlackfyre
Summary: AU. What if the Pact of Ice and Fire was made before the Dance of Dragons? If instead of marrying Laenor Velaryon, Princess Rhaenyra married a son of a Stark? Would this alter the Dance of Dragons for better or for worse?





	1. the Pact of Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I have changed around the canon children of Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Gilliane Glover. Instead of having just Cregan; they have Edric, Lysara, Artos and Raya. This will mainly have Artos/Rhaenyra within, but will also have some Lysara/Daemon as well as Raya/Jason... And maybe other pairings :)

Chapter 1: the Pack of Ice and Fire

Snow fell as swift as hail during a storm in Winterfell that day, as Lord Rickon Stark’s Maester: Ellard Snow (the bastard son of Lord Manderly) brought him a letter, upon it the symbol of House Targaryen.

Such a letter inspired curiosity within him unlike any letter could. In his lifetime, Rickard Stark had never rode South. His father, Benjen, had at some point or another, but he never saw a point to it. This fifth Targaryen King seemed more than appeased of the fact that the North had been loyal – well, mostly - to the last four Kings, and had never called Rickon Stark South.

In fact, King Viserys I Targaryen would be even more assured of such a loyalty due to the Pact of Ice and Fire that lay between them. 

The North had been near uprising during and just after the reign of King Maegor the Cruel, in fact, they had gone as far as to call Rickon’s grandsire, Ellard Stark, their King. 

Seeking peace during his reign, King Jaehaerys I the Wise offered the Pact of Ice and Fire to appease the North; the promise that, within the next century, a Princess of House Targaryen would marry a son of House Stark.

That had appeased some of the North, others, like Greatjon Umber, had declared that they didn’t need a ‘prissy dragon Princess whose flames would extinguish in the harsh North’ but Ellard had taken such a deal none the less.

Tearing the letter open, his curiosity all but dictating his every movement, he read aloud the contents. Before he was simply unable to speak in surprise.

King Viserys I had decided to inact the Pact of Ice and Fire, and offered for his second son to marry the Heir to the Seven Kingdoms: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. The second son, Viserys wrote, so that the North did not need to merge with the Crownlands.

Along with his second son, Viserys also offered to foster his daughters and his heir as he informed Rickon that, attempting to keep his reign a peaceful one, he would be fostering many of the Heirs and some Lord’s daughters in order to prevent animosity between houses. Also, if his son was to become King, then he would need his family around him to be allied with strong houses.

Rickon had never been the most ambitious of men, but this offer was definitely not one he would turn down. Since their fall from being the Kings of Winter, this was just what their family needed to reinstate themselves, remind the other Houses who mocked their beloved North that House Stark was not a House to be discarded so easily.

Making up his mind, Rickon swiftly began to draft his letter back to King Viserys, informing him that his Heir, Edric Stark; his second son, Artos Stark; his eldest daughter, Lysara Stark; and his youngest daughter, Raya Stark, would all be heading South. 

Attaching his letter to a raven, he took leave of his office, moving on to the unfortunate task of informing his wife, Lady Gilliane Glover, that all of their children were now taking leave of the North, to live hundreds of leagues away in King’s Landing.

\-----

Grey eyes clashed upon grey as sword clanged against sword mid-air, the two brothers dancing around one another. The older of the two was the first to attack, cutting his sword at head height, but the younger easily dodged under it and went for his unprotected chest.

Luckily, the elder noticed just in time and clanged their swords together once more, only for the younger brother to feign for the head once more, before striking the stomach and successfully winding his opponent. Then, he delivered a swift kick and the older boy fell backwards onto the court yard floor.

“Can’t you ever go easy on me, little brother?” Edric Stark stated, still trying to recover from the harsh winding, “we both know you’re the better swordsman.”

Artos Stark grinned as he helped his older brother by three years up with a firm grip upon his hand, “it’s not my problem that you spend all day staring at Arra Norrey.”

“I do not!” Edric objected strongly, his face flushing a bright red that only served to confirm Artos’ statement. Instead of speaking, Artos, a boy of ten and three, simply smirked at Edric, anything that he was about to say was cut off as his older sister, Lysara, came running into the courtyard with a bright grin upon her face.

“Has father told you yet?” She inquired, dark hair in tight ringlets going down to her waist, her silver eyes from their mother, a Glover, glinting with joy, “we are all heading South to King’s Landing! And Artos will marry Princess Rhaenyra.”

Artos was taken much aback by his sister’s words. At first, his heart had leapt at the idea of seeing more of the world than just simply the North, but the fact that he was betrothed to the Heir to the Seven Kingdoms made his heart jump not with joy but with surprise and slight fright.

He is not meant to become Lord of Winterfell; let alone a King!

Just then, Rickon Stark and a red-faced Lady Gilliane Stark made themselves known, and their father’s lips pursed when he realised, from the expressions upon his sons’ faces, that Lysara had already told them, “I see Lysara had beat me to it,” their adventurous sister shrunk under the gaze of their father, “Artos, I must talk with you; and Edric, Lysara, Raya as well afterwards.”

Alone, Artos followed his father to the older man’s study. His dark haired, grey eyed father sighed as he sat, before pushing over the letter from King Viserys for his son to read.

“I know you were not expecting this, Artos, but I trust that you know what the Pact of Ice and Fire is,” the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, stated to his son. Artos nodded his head, the Pact of Ice and Fire being one of the first things their Maester Ellard had taught them about. But why didn’t they want Edric the Heir instead? As if knowing what his son was about to ask, Rickon continued, “they could not have Edric as it would cause the merging of the North and the Crownlands, and not only are they so far away, but also neither part of the country is willing for such an event to transpire, and as you will be King of the Seven Kingdoms, it would have happened if it was Edric.”

Artos nodded, staring on.

There was silence, until, eventually, Rickon spoke once more, “what is it, son? Why do you look so upset, you will be King.”

Artos sighed, pulling at a strand of his curly dark hair – a nervous habit – as he inquired of his father: “what if she doesn’t like me?”

The older man’s expression softened, and he ruffled his son’s hair so that his curls moved around wildly and fell completely out of place, “you know, your mother and I had never met before our wedding day,” Artos’ eyes widened in surprise as he had never known that, “and, at first, we didn’t like each other very much. She thought I was an arrogant fool, and I thought she was a spoilt, hot headed brat,” his father seemed to chuckle at the memory of such opinions, “but we soon found out that those bad qualities weren’t all that we were. And we grew to love one another. You’re a kind, loveable boy, Artos, you will make a wonderful husband and a wondrous King. I have no doubt that the Princess Rhaenyra will come to love you.” 

Artos nodded, trying to will himself to be more confident. He couldn’t let the Princess down by seeming weak or scared, especially when there would be other children of Lord’s in King’s Lading that she could have married just as easily.

“I will miss you and mother, and the North, father,” Artos told him, looking out the window desperately, as if this would be his last glimpse of snow, which it wouldn’t be, as the letter said that they should be in King’s Landing in three moons time, just before the Princess Rhaenyra’s ten and third nameday, and a year later, they would be wed.

“The North shall always be in your heart, son,” Rickon informed Artos, pulling his youngest son into a tight hug, “even when you take the Dragon Princess’ last name, your heart will still be a Stark.”

\----

Gilliane Stark, formerly Glover, held each of her children tightly within her hold before they left. 

Edric, her eldest and the Heir to Winterfell, dressed within fine grey furs and smiled at her softly, giving her an embrace and informing Gilliane that he’d see her soon before he moved to mount his horse.

Her second eldest was Lysara, at five and ten, but a year younger than Edric, she was dressed in a long-sleeved, hugging black dress with near white furs that brought out the silver in her eyes that Gilliane possessed within her very own. Gilliane supposed she was blessed, to have such beautiful daughters and fine sons to call her own.

Next was Artos, a boy of ten and three, with a wolfish grin and wolf blood running strong through his veins. Like Lysara, his eyes were silver more than grey, with a wild mop of her husband’s dark brown, curly hair. He was already a bit taller than Edric, and with a little bit more muscle. Out of the two of them, Artos was the fighter whereas Edric preferred the solace of books. He dressed in black furs, which she could have sworn had a swirl of red upon them.

Lastly was Raya. Grey eyes, but with the Glover light brown hair and with an easy smile. She, like Edric, held a love for books, and she loved to write. She was a passionate and determined child, and wore a dark blue, long sleeved dress and dark grey furs.

Gilliane had to fight to keep the tears at bay as she watched them all don their horses – both Raya and Lysara had insisted on being able to learn to ride as well, and Gilliane had convinced Rickon to do so; but he had drawn a line at fighting – and begin to move away.

Each of them looked back at least once, grey eyes meeting silver, silver eyes meeting silver, and she had to fight to keep the tears at bay until they were out of her line of sight. She would not upset them. She would not let them see her cry.

“It’ll be alright,” Rickon attempted to soothe, lovingly rubbing his hand upon her back, and she refrained from snapping. Her hot temper was brewing, anger that all of her children were gone.

Letting out an angry sigh, the tears finally succeeding in making their way down her face, she moved herself away from Rickon’s touch and left, wondering if her children would be alright, or if the snakes of the Court would devour them. 

Or the dragons. Real dragons. 

Gods, give them strength, Gilliane thought as she began to move closer and closer back to her bedchambers within the grand castle that was Winterfell.

\----

They were fast approaching the streets of King’s Landing, Artos knew, after an entire month of travel; their speed delayed by the hefty amount of luggage – probably mostly due to Lysara, who enjoyed gowns and jewels as much as she did riding.

When they finally did enter the city, however, it was nowhere near as grand as Artos had imagined it to be. When he entered the city, the streets were clearly dirty and – whilst riding through Flea Bottom – filled to the brim with slums, all but piled atop of one another.

As they travelled further and further into the city, however, they passed the awe-worthy dragon pit causing all of the Stark children’s mouths to open wide at the view. At the same time, however, Artos couldn’t help but wonder if the money would have been better spent upon the people of the city, giving them better health care, cleaning up the streets, providing better housing.

Artos’ silver gaze wondered up to where the Red Keep stood upon Aegon’s High Hill from where they had just travelled past the Dragon Pit upon Rhaenys' Hill. It truly did cast a shadow over the city, a great fortress it was indeed, overlooking Blackwater Rush. Smaller than Winterfell, Artos noticed with a keen eye, but not by a lot; and much larger than the keeps at Highgarden, Sunspear, Storm’s End and Riverrun. Not the Rock, however.

Once they were at the Red Keep’s gates, Kingsguards were swiftly there to greet them and to lead them to the throne room, introducing themselves as Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Criston Cole. 

The throne room was as grand as the outside of the Keep, holding within it the throne that had been forged by Balerion the Black Dread with fire and blood. Made out of swords. Artos supposed that it must be a mightily uncomfortable chair, but tried to imagine himself sitting in it (of course, he knew that he would be King Consort and not the true King, but if Rhaenyra was birthing their child – the very thought of it made his fear and anxiousness come back – then he would have to fill in).

As they were lead to the throne, Artos observed the King. He was a plump and jolly man, with a welcoming smile upon his face as the four Stark children entered the room. Beside him, his second wife, Lady Alicent Hightower, sat, a very forced smile upon her face, a slender and graceful woman though her loveliness was marred by her expression, that looked as if she were constantly smelling something bad.

To her side, was evidently her young son Prince Aegon. Despite the Prince’s birth, however, Rhaenyra was still to inherit the throne. The little boy had a look of sulking arrogance about him, even at such a tender age, that Artos could already see how opposing he was of his father’s jolly attitude; far more like his mother.

To the King’s other side, however, was a woman more beautiful than any he had ever seen. Far more beautiful than the Queen Allicent, or any other of the Ladies he had seen at Court, or the Tully girls who he had met in passing during a day stop in Riverrun.

Her silver-gold hair was in several braids, that Artos found made her look as fearsome as the stories of Queen Visenya, and possessed stunning plum coloured eyes with a sharp jawline and sharper cheekbones. Her mouth was small, but her lips were plump and a rosy red; and upon her was a richly made dress of scarlet red and black – the Targaryen colours, Artos noticed – with golden Myrish lace patterns. 

She was like the image of a goddess to him.

As was custom, the Heir stepped forward first. Artos’ older brother moved towards the King before taking a long bow, waiting until the King permitted him to rise to introduce himself, “my name is Lord Edric Stark, Your Grace, Heir to Winterfell.”

Artos stepped forward next, copying in his brother’s actions and awaiting for the King to permit him to rise. When Artos met King Viserys’ plum purple eyes that so perfectly matched Rhaenyra’s, he saw that the man was wearing a large smile of approval, “my name is Lord Artos Stark, Your Grace, second son of Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Gilliane Stark.”

Afterwards, he backed away slightly as Lysara elegantly moved forward, curtseying low in her shining cobalt blue gown, “I am Lady Lysara Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Gilliane Stark.”

And, finally, Raya, who near bounded forward, an excited smile upon her face before she bowed low in her deep green gown, and said, “I am Lady Raya Stark, youngest daughter of Lord Rickon Stark and Lady Gilliane Stark.”

“It is lovely to have you all at Court,” King Viserys I welcomed earnestly, smiling at them all as if they were already his good friends, “I would like you to meet my beautiful daughter and Heir to the Seven Kingdoms,” Artos noticed not only Queen Allicent’s intense scowl at this, but also the man with the Hand of the King badge, “Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra took several steps forward, before falling to a shallow curtsey. When she rose, her eyes were upon Artos’, and stared at him like a jigsaw puzzle she wanted to figure out; and he stared back in likeness and, admittedly, slight awe.

“And my son, Prince Aegon Targaryen,” Viserys then introduced, and Artos nearly forgot to look at the boy as he was looking at Rhaenyra. Luckily, or unluckily, Viserys seemed to notice where Artos’ gaze had been and clearly let it pass, though, by the glower, it seemed that Queen Allicent would not.

“Fostering here is also,” King Viserys continued to merrily introduce, “Lord Jason Lannister,” a boy with golden hair and emerald green eyes stepped forward, watching them all like a predator analysing his prey, “Lord Elmo Tully,” a man kissed by fire with ocean blue eyes stepped forth, and Artos had to refrain from snickering at the name, “Lady Jeyne Arryn,” a woman of sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes stepped forward, offering them a tight smile, “and Lord Borros Baratheon.”

Artos’ father had informed him before he left that Lyonel Tyrell was still but a babe, so there would be no flower of the Reach there, but there was the Heirs to the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Riverlands and the Vale there, and Artos knew that it was Edric’s task to charm them towards the North.

And perhaps wed one of their sisters or cousins.

After everyone had been introduced, the King stood up, grinning before addressing the entire court that had gathered in the throne room for the Starks’ arrival, “I would like to formerly announce the betrothal between Artos Stark and my daughter and heir: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen; House Targaryen being true to the Pact of Ice and Fire signed by my grandfather, and the young Stark’s grandfather. May, when they reign, it be prosperous and peaceful!”

There was much cheering throughout the room, and he found himself glancing over to Rhaenyra, often called ‘the Realm’s Delight’ as she smiled and waved to the people of the Court.

Her eyes caught once more with his own, and he found himself desperately wishing that they could make this work. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life in misery like his Uncle, Bennard Stark, who had never particularly got along with, and certainly not loved, his wife.

He had seen how miserable people could be, even if his father and mother were a success.

In the moments following, King Viserys announced a feast to commence the following day in celebration of the betrothal.


	2. the Dragon's Despair and the Knight of the Plums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Knight of the Plums competes in the joust; a Queen of Love and Beauty is crowned, and the Queen and King are hiding an announcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy chapter two!  
> By the way, to get my updates up early I normally write them and then upload them straight away, but if anybody else would be interested in being my Beta, then I would be more than interested!  
> Also, remember that they are both just thirteen at the moment, so they are very much so emotional and have more so childish characteristics at the moment.

Chapter 2: the Dragon’s Despair

Three months in King’s Landing had Artos Stark, the future King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, truly coming out of his shell. He had always been confident in the way that he fought, and even more so now as he was able to beat each and every single of the Heirs being fostered there alongside him, and even beat Prince Aegon Targaryen (youngest son of Baelon Targaryen and Alyssa Targaryen) of the Kingsguard twice.

They were all yet to meet the formidable Prince Daemon Targaryen, now called King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, who was married to his estranged wife: Lady Rhea Royce, whom was in the Vale while he was off in various lands.

Artos knew that he would probably never, no matter how old he got, beat the Rogue Prince at sword, but that did not mean that he wasn’t eager to try.

He had also become good friends with two of the other Heirs: Jason Lannister and Jeyne Arryn. Jason was an ambitious and intelligent boy who was two years older than Artos, he had a great mind for politics and Artos had asked him to teach him how to manouver and understand the court as well as he did. Jason agreed and, in return, Artos assisted him with his sword fighting skills that, while efficient, did not allow him to beat either Artos or Borros in a fight.

The Heir to Casterly Rock was certainly improving, and Artos would replay the look of shock upon Borros Baratheon’s face when Jason knocked him on his ass over and over again in his head.

Lady Jeyne Arryn was the most intellectual of the three and was also very logical, finding it easy to anticipate each person’s next three moves before they had even taken one. She also, to Artos’ great surprise, asked that he teach her the basics of swordsmanship in case she needed to defend herself or her people in the future, and so they trained in secret.

Meanwhile, Borros Baratheon had, at first, attempted to befriend Artos, but had then decided upon disliking him for the factor that Artos was a better fighter than he was.

Borros got along better with Edric, but Edric Stark more often was found in the company of the Lord Elmo Tully or with Artos and his friends.

Lysara and Raya kept together for the most part, also occasionally going with Artos but mostly befriending Lady Laena Velaryon and Lord Laenor Velaryon whom had come to Court within the last moon.

Lady Laena was a remarkably beautiful woman, though Artos found that nobody was comparable to Rhaenyra still, even if the said Heir to the Iron Throne had barely even spoke to him since his arrival.

He had tried to seek her out, once or twice, but she always seemed to be busy. But today was her name day, and there would be a great joust. He was planning to name Princess Rhaenyra his Queen of Love and Beauty, perhaos then she might take the same shining to him that he had to her, and, once he had told Ser Aegon Targaryen of the Kingsguard of his intentions, the man offered to help him train.

His efficiency in weaponry certainly helped him in the moons that he had trained, for he was a complete natural. Artos supposed that his archery mastery had helped with the aim, and his spear lessons had helped with his strength and being used to holding something somewhat like a lance.

When the day came, he was more than confident, especially as Ser Aegon would not be participating (and he was admittedly better than Artos, after all, he had mentored him) and instead the young Ser Criston Cole would have his chance at victory.

The Knight of the Plum, he called himself, for the shade of Rhaenyra’s eyes, deciding not to enter as Artos Stark, but as a mystery knight. 

Lysara and Raya had known what he was planning, and he wore young Raya’s favour as he rode into the jousting area, looking up to see the King, the Queen, the Princess and the Prince all standing up there.

By King Viserys’ twinkling eye, Artos supposed that he had some knowledge of what was going on as, the place close to the Royal family where he was supposed to be sitting, was empty.

Artos sent a prayer to the Old Gods that Rhaenyra didn’t know yet, and had simply heard of his ‘sickness’.

“The Knight of the Plum,” had been announced when he finally reached his starting position, and the crowd clapped and cheered for the mystery Knight, and any who recognised Raya’s favour turned to the young girl, “and Ser Henrik of House Tyrell.”

His opponent came into the joust with his helmet off, golden hair getting tousled in the wind and bright blue eyes shining and his grinned at the women who cheered for him. Looking up, Artos was relieved to see Princess Rhaenyra was not drawn in by the Flower of the Reach’s charms, but did see, however, that it was Rhaenyra’s favour upon his lance.

Artos knew that if he had to beat anybody, it had to be Ser Henrik.

Before he knew it, they were charging, lances angled at one another. Only Henrik’s was too far to the left and Artos’ straight on, only Ser Henrik dodged out of the way of Artos’ lance and it only skimmed him; leading to a Round two.

On the second round, however, both lances were dead straight on, so Artos urged his horse – a northern mare called Winterstorm – faster and faster, and, in the end, Artos’ lance hit first and Ser Henrik went toppling off of his horse.

The crowd cheered for him, and Artos moved away, awaiting his next joust while others jousted before him.

After his defeat of Ser Henrik, he also beat Ser Roland of House Royce, Ser Davos of House Grandison, Ser Gregan of House Crakehall and others. His second to last battle was against Ser Orion of House Durrandon, whom was a renowned jouster, and whom Artos only beat by an error of Orion’s own in which his horse had spurred just as Artos’ lance was about to touch Orion and he was thrown off.

Artos did not believe the victory he got a true one, for the man’s loss had been more at the case of his horse than Artos’ lance, but he shook it off, remembering his motivation. He would talk to Ser Orion later.

His last opponent, in the final joust that would decide who won, was Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard. He was five years Artos’ senior, but this was also his first taste at a joust and, no doubt, many of his wins had been down to luck like Artos’.

Determined, both wanting to win for the same reason, they spurred their horses and galloped towards one another.

On the fifth round, Artos’ lance was too far right, and Criston’s hit him in the shoulder, a hit that almost threw him from his horse. The crowd watched, however, as with all the strength he could muster, Artos pulled himself back onto his horse and adjusted his lance once more, just as Ser Aegon had taught him.

It was two more rounds, until Artos’ lance had hit such force upon Ser Criston that he had gone backwards off of his horse, landing upon his arm with a loud crack. The Maester soon reacted, going towards the man and announcing that he most likely had a broken arm. 

Swiftly getting off of his horse, Artos said to Ser Criston as he approached, “good fight.”

The young knight stared at him for a moment without reply, before he was ushered away by the Maester’s so they could tend to his arm.

Artos, meanwhile, got back on his horse and removed his helmet. Grinning at the surprise written upon everybody’s faces when they saw that it was in fact Artos Stark, their future King Consort, who had been the rider. Well, everybody but Jason, Jeyne, his siblings and the King.

Being passed the crown of roses that were in a pattern, one rose that had all the orange and yellow and red hues of fire, and another a winter rose, with blue and silver and grey. It was beautiful, and he could think of no crown more fitting for Rhaenyra than one of ice and fire, a sign of their union.

Moving his horse towards the royal box, he placed the crown upon his lance before moving it forth to drop it within the Princess Rhaenyra’s lap. When she looked down at it, he saw the most genuine – and perhaps only – smile that she had worn since the day he arrived, lifting it from her lap and placing it upon her head.

The crowds clapped and cheered impossibly loudly, but Artos found that he didn’t care for them, only for the grin that Rhaenyra gave him, one that he surely mirrored.

\----

During the feast, they were sat together, and she rejected to wear the crown that signified her place as Crown Princess, and instead wore the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty. 

She wore a royal blue coloured gown with lace sleeves, and silver Myrish lace. The gown seemed to compliment the winter roses, and contrast the fire roses, which only served to bring them out more.

Her silver-gold hair was braided like it always was in a complicated pattern that still reached down to the small of her back. Princess Rhaenyra seemed to have perfect posture and, as he looked at her, he could not help but think that she looked more like a Queen than the ever-frowning Queen Alicent did.

“Why are you staring at me?” Was the first thing that Rhaenyra said to Artos, sending him spluttering and blushing bright red.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised after a minute of regrouping his thoughts under Rhaenyra’s intense gaze, “I was just thinking of how much you look like a Queen right now.”

At his words, Rhaenyra gave him a small smile of gratitude, before she inquired, “the Knight of the Plum? Where did that name come from?”

Artos shifted slightly uncomfortably. With Jason, Jeyne and his siblings he was so much more confident, but now, meeting the woman that he would one day marry, it was as if every inch of confidence had been sucked out of him as he mumbled, “plum is the colour of your eyes.”

He supposed he sounded pathetic, telling her she looked like a Queen, informing her that he had named himself in the ranks after the colour of her eyes. But she didn’t laugh at him, though her smile seemed to grow and something in her eyes (fear, perhaps?) seemed to diminish slightly.

“Thank you,” was all that she said, before she moved to grab a tray of lemon cakes, taking a few to put upon her plate.

“How has your name day been?” Artos inquired, determined to prove that he was more than a stammering fool. 

“Very pleasant, Lord Artos,” she answered, “I spent very early hours of the morning with my dragon, Syrax, and the rest of the day at the joust.”

Artos’ silver eyes widened with interest at the mention of the dragon Syrax, he had never seen a dragon and had always been fascinated by the stories. Rhaenyra took note of such an expression and grinned at him, inquiring, “would you like to meet Syrax?”

Artos nodded, and the two asked for leave to visit the dragon from King Viserys I, who nodded to them both with a smile. They left and headed to the stables of the Red Keep, a rather unusual place to keep a dragon, Artos thought, and Rhaenyra was soon opening the doors to the stables, explaining: “I named her after a Goddess of Old Valyria, and, for her age, she is one of the largest dragons that the Targaryen line has possessed, though not as large as Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes or my Uncle Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes. She is only six years old.”

The dragon that lay before they let out a screech at the sight of Rhaenyra, and Artos was in awe of it’s beauty. Syrax had yellow scales and golden underwings, as well as blood red eyes. Yet, at six years old, she could eat a grown man whole and, Artos noticed, the very high roof of the stables was almost too small for the dragon now.

“Why is she kept in chains?”

Rhaenyra sighed at his question, and her eyes turned angry, “Alicent is afraid of them,” Artos noticed the way that she spat out the words, and ignored the older woman's rightful title, “well, claims to be afraid of Syrax anyway, she doesn’t seem to mind her beloved son’s dragon, so he has to be in chains on orders of my father.”

“Surely you can talk to your father about it,” Artos reasoned, trying to ignore the effect her stare had on him, “make a deal, say you will train Syrax everyday and that he will live still out on the grounds but free so he can fly; tell him of how uncomfortable he is and perhaps say that you fear he would not be strong enough to protect you if he does not learn how to fly well and has the freedom to discover the world.”

His last words would be exaggerating or, perhaps, lying, and as much as he thought Viserys I was a good and kind King; it was Rhaenyra who he would be marrying so he would prefer to make her happy.

The Crown Princess nodded to his words, while Syrax snorted out fire in annoyance, probably at Artos’ dissing of his protecting skills.

Rhaenyra swiftly soothed the dragon in High Valyrian, who then seemed to take more of a liking to Artos after having more of an understanding of what he said, and nodded his head to him. Artos was stunned. 

Though, then again, dragons were magical creatures; why should he be so surprised that Syrax would have a basic grasp upon what Rhaenyra was informing him of?

“Could you teach me?” Artos questioned, thinking that this would be a prefect way to get to know Princess Rhaenyra better should she accept, “how to speak High Valyrian.”

Rhaenyra seemed to regard him for a moment, before nodding, “you will be my King Consort, after all, it is best that you know the language of the Targaryens; especially as you will be taking my name next year.”

She smiled at him; he smiled back at her.

\----

Laughing and smiling, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and the second son of Rickon Stark made their way back into the castle from where they had previously been with Syrax and then Rhaenyra had shown him around the gardens.

Their laughter and smiles soon stopped, however, as did the conversation, when the hushed voices of King Viserys and Queen Alicent were heard.

Rhaenyra moved forward to eavesdrop, and Artos, powerless to stop her, did the same.

“I will not be announcing your pregnancy at my daughter and Heir’s name day celebrations, Ali,” the King informed his wife sternly, and Artos saw Rhaenyra’s eyes open wide, “it is unfair to her. Today is her day.”

“Our son, Aegon, should be your Heir,” Queen Alicent Hightower replied, “he is your firstborn son and it is his right.”

“Rhaenyra will be Queen after my death and that is final, now we are to go back to the feast and the announcement that you are with child will come next week.”

They heard the two walking off, and Artos turned to see Rhaenyra with tears spilling down her cheeks. Artos, not truly knowing what to do, pulled her into an unsure embrace, holding her tight.

She hugged him back and sniffled, “what if my father changes his mind? What if everybody decides to support Alicent if she gives him another son? She has already got Aegon and Helaena.”

Artos moved back from her, and looked into her eyes with determination, “he won’t. He has already said clearly to Alicent,” Artos had lost what little respect he had for the Queen while she was trying to persuade King Viserys to put aside his daughter and proclaimed Heir, the Princess of Dragonstone, for their son, “that he will not make Aegon his Heir. And even if she has a dozen sons, you are the Realm’s Delight, you are the Princess of Dragonstone, and you will be one of the best monarchs that Westeros has ever seen.”

Her cries turned to sniffles, and her sniffles turned to silent tears as she stated, “thank you, Artos, you will also make a wonderful King. And we shall make the Seven Kingdoms a better place.”

He truly hoped that they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the arrival of Prince Daemon at Viserys and Allicent's five years of marriage celebratory tourney :)  
> So 111 AC, meaning that Artos' fourteenth birthday and, later in the year, (not really sure how time works in Westeros but, as Artos is born in 96 AC and Rhaenyra in 97 AC, Artos' birthday is December time-ish, so his fourteenth birthday will have just passed in next chapter, and I imagine Rhaenyra's to be August time; so Chapter 4 will feature a wedding :) )


	3. the Rogue Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which another Tourney is held; a dragon is freed from chains; there is a birth, betrothals and a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is pretty fast paced as I'm beginning to move the story line along a bit :) from now on, we'll be changing POVOs more, mainly centered around Artos, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Laena/Edric, Raya and Victaria (you'll see who she is near the end of this chapter :) )  
> As the story goes on there will also be POVOs from King Viserys, Queen Alicent, Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, the children of Artos and Rhaenyra and etc, as well as Jason Lannister.  
> I hope you enjoy! :)

**Artos Stark**

Queen Alicent’s pregnancy had been announced by her proud father, the ex-Hand of the King, two days later (which Artos knew was against the King’s wishes, who had wanted to wait longer), and the Kingdom rejoiced. Well, except for a select few.

 

Rhaenyra seemed to only come out of her shell when she was teaching Artos Valyrian. It reminded him of how he was with sword fighting, when he was good at something, he was confident while he was doing it, and that seemed to work for Rhaenyra who giggled each time she had to correct his bad pronunciation.

 

In some ways, though, the early announcement of the Queen being with child was a good thing, for it was much easier for Crown Princess Rhaenyra to persuade her father to allow her dragon out of it’s chains by the end of the month, so long as she could prove that she had trained it well enough when the time came.

 

King Viserys I had almost refused such a wish of his daughter’s, citing Alicent’s fear, but when his daughter had brought on the tears and had played to how upset she was that Alicent’s announcement came so soon after her birthday, and that she was worried he would love the new child more, he had swiftly agreed.

 

And Rhaenyra had spent near everyday training Syrax, bringing Artos with her to share in her excitement, as she taught him more commands in Valyrian, such as those for: fly, fire, stay, stop, faster, slower and even sit. The last one, Artos couldn’t help but laugh at, which had earnt him a glare from two angry female dragons.

 

It was amazing, he thought, despite being slightly unnerved, to see the bond between the two growing stronger and stronger, and when Viserys decreed that Syrax could be released from her chains, their bond had been complete.

 

Artos also found himself surprised by the sheer number of balls and celebrations the King had. In the last two moons, he had been to three balls, dancing with Rhaenyra and Jeyne Arryn. It had made him smile slightly, when Rhaenyra had grown jealous of him dancing with Jeyne, and he had to explain that they were friends and that there were no feelings between them.

 

He knew that Princess Rhaenyra had initially been sceptical, but she had soon got to know Jeyne and found her as a good friend as well, enjoying conversations over their shared love of history; as well as partaking in political debates with Jason Lannister.

 

Today, however, was yet another joust. Artos had thought fleetingly to go in and try to win glory once more, he had got a thousand dragon coins from winning the last one after all, and King Viserys had even said that, for his wondrous win, he would give him five hundred men as the beginning of his army. Artos supposed that this was simply because he was to be his good son, and that that beginning of an army would help him protect Viserys’ daughter should anything happen.

 

Yet Artos ended up deciding to sit in the royal box with Rhaenyra after she had invited him to do so.

 

Rhaenyra looked beautiful, as usual, dressed dramatically in Targaryen red and black, the Targaryen three headed dragon drawn in Myrish lace upon the centre of her gown. Meanwhile, Artos noticed, Queen Alicent was wearing a modest green dress with a silver belt and long sleeves, the colour of her mother’s house: House Sarsfield.

 

While watching, he did find that it was much more exciting to be partaking rather than watching. That was until Rhaenyra secretly and discretely slipped her hand into his own, and then he found that he much preferred watching.

 

Artos watched eagerly as the new competitors were to be announced.

 

A man rode in, one whom Artos easily recognised with his coal coloured hair and green eyes, “Ser Criston Cole,” was announced, and Artos could barely retain the smirk off of his face.

 

“What are you smirking at?” Rhaenyra asked of him playfully, and he grinned at her.

 

“He wanted to name you his Queen of Love and Beauty,” Artos told her, gazing at her plum coloured eyes, “but I beat him to it, my Queen.”

 

Rhaenyra’s smile was contagious, and it was several moments before they looked back to the jousting area, and only then it was because of the surprise announcement of: “Daemon Targaryen, King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.”

 

“Uncle,” Rhaenyra gasped as a man with silver-gold hair and shining violet eyes galloped out upon a silver horse. He was a tall, handsome man, Artos noticed, who looked like the Warrior himself reincarnated. King Daemon held a charming smile, that almost matched the amount of dangerousness in his eyes.

 

His wife, Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone (whom had never been crowned Queen Consort of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea), was in attendance and Artos noticed that her favour was not in her hands, so he assumed that it was upon the King of the Stepstone’s lance, whom seemed to care little for it.

 

Unsurprisingly, within two rounds, Ser Criston Cole had fell from his horse, his shoulder and head bleeding profusely, and was taken out of the jousting area on a stretcher whilst the crowds cheered Daemon Targaryen on.

 

**\----**

**Daemon Targaryen**

Daemon Targaryen, King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea and the Dragonrider of Caraxes, grinned victoriously as he knocked yet another opponent off of his horse, another who had to be carried away in a stretcher.

 

The crowd went wild for him, it always had. He was known to be a better warrior, far more charming, more intelligent and more handsome than either of his brothers, King Viserys or Ser Aegon.

 

As he thought of his older brother, his eyes moved up to the royal box. His brother was now far plumper than he once was, perhaps because he did very little exercise after his dragon, Balerion the Black Dread’s, death. His second Queen, Alicent Hightower, was a pretty woman, with the same golden hair that Queen Aemma once had, and similar striking blue eyes to what Aemma once had. Daemon thought Alicent less beautiful than either Aemma or Rhaenyra, both of whom had songs sung about their beauty, both of whom had been proclaimed, in their time, to be the most beautiful women in all of Westeros.

 

Also, Alicent Hightower was the bitch who had placed him further away from the throne.

 

Crown Princess Rhaenyra was as lovely as ever, with silver-gold hair in braids and intense purple eyes that had such a gaze that made her seem like the female reincarnation of the Warrior, and had clearly flowered. He had brought her gifts from Essos that he would be sure to give to her later.

 

Her betrothed sat beside her, and from here, he could see their not so subtle connected hands. It seemed, that the wolf may have fell for the dragon, or be falling, and perhaps vice versa.

 

He knew Rhaenyra, he knew that the young girl had not been fond of public displays of affection since Queen Aemma Arryn’s death, so the boy must mean a lot.

 

He scanned the crowds to look for the boy’s family. Close to the royal box, three children with the long, Stark faces and brown hair of varying shades sat.

 

Two admittedly beautiful girls, one several years older than the other, perhaps older than her brother who sat beside the Princess, and the Heir to Winterfell.

 

If he wanted to stay in favour during Rhaenyra and Artos’ reign, then surely it would not be a bad idea to charm one of the Stark girls. Initially, he had hoped to arrange an ‘accident’ for Rhea and wed Laena Velaryon by battling her suitor for her hand, but if he could become their good brother, if he could make his way into being the Hand of the Queen, then that would give him much more of an advantage.

 

His last competitor, his younger brother, he beat within four rounds, and then he was handed the crown so that he may choose his Queen of Love and Beauty.

 

He ignored the surprised looks when he purposely rode past Rhea’s box, neither of them had any love for one another, so she would get over it (not that he particularly cared), and went straight to where the Starks were sitting.

 

There, he lowered the Crown, using his lance, down into the eldest Stark girl’s lap, and forced back a grin as she looked at it in shock.

 

It took her several moments, and Daemon could see that all the smiles around him had died, but the Stark girl put the crown of winter roses upon her head.

 

“Your name?” Daemon inquired of her, shooting her a charming grin at her blush, and ignoring her eldest brother’s glare.

 

“Lysara Stark,” she answered.

 

And then Daemon manoeuvred his horse so that he was in front of the royal box, and gestured for one of his men to come forward. With them, they brought the Crown of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, to which Daemon planned to present to Viserys.

 

While he had to think of how to get into the favour of the future Queen Rhaenyra, he also had to think of the present.

 

And so, he bowed to his brother, presenting his own crown in his hands and stated, “for you, my King, the Crown of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.”

 

His brother laughed joyfully, “thank you, Daemon, and welcome back to Court!”

 

Daemon only grinned at the pregnant Queen Alicent’s scowl.

 

**\----**

**Rhaenyra Targaryen**

Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, found herself able to see through exactly what her Uncle Daemon was doing. Some would simply argue that Daemon crowned Lysara because she was one of the most beautiful maidens there, and because he strongly disliked his wife, but Rhaenyra knew better.

 

Daemon Targaryen had long since sought after power, and, despire the dactor that she loved her Uncle dearly, she knew well that he had flown into a fit of rage when she had been called Princess of Dragonstone and he had no longer been Heir Presumptive.

 

Obviously, within her reign, he sought to have power through being not only her Uncle but also her good brother on her husband’s side. No doubt Rhea Royce would not live to see the end of the year, in fact, Rhea had already been sent back to the Vale upon Daemon’s request.

 

And Rhaenyra saw no problem with his plans.

 

Daemon Targaryen was both respected and feared throughout all of Westeros and Essos, he was both a great man and a monster; he would be more than valuable to have on her side, and away from those who still believed that it was her half-brother, Prince Aegon’s, right to sit upon the throne after their father’s death.

 

In fact, if she could perhaps persuade her father to let the marriage go ahead, then they could spare Rhea Royce her untimely fate and simply have the marriage annulled; it was not like there was any evidence otherwise.

 

Her soon-to-be husband, however, seemed less inclined to have Daemon as an in law, worrying about whether or not he would be a good husband to Lady Lysara Stark, despite the factor that Lysara was two years older than her betrothed.

 

Over the weeks that her Uncle had spent wooing the girl that would be her good sister, she had seen that he was fond of the girl. Love, no, but fondness, yes.

 

In fact, Daemon had even taken over from Artos in teaching her the art of sword fighting, and Lysara seemed to enjoy Daemon as her teacher very much so.

 

Perhaps seeing them this morning, with Daemon having a smile for once and Lysara grinning as she caught him off guard, being able to shove him back, causing them both to fall over, swords in hand, in a tangle of limbs, had given her the idea to go to her father at last.

 

“It would ensure that his is loyal to me, father,” Rhaenyra attempted to reason with her father who simply reminded her that Daemon was still married to Rhea Royce, “you know that he can be unpredictable, but if he is my good brother then that would make him less inclined to ever betray me.”  


“He wouldn’t betray you,” Viserys argued weakly, still deluded into thinking that his brother was a good through and through man, which he was not, “he would never.”

 

“He could, father. Please,” Rhaenyra begged, for what must have been once of the first times in her life, “for my peace of mind. And for Daemon’s, for we all know that it is evident that Rhea is infertile, and Daemon wants children. And Lysara is already six and ten, it is about time that my betrothed’s family started marrying to create a more stable throne for me.”

 

Artos himself had reached four and ten a couple of moons past, and Viserys had held a ball for it; his older brother, Edric, was now seven and ten; Lysara was now six and ten and young Raya was now two and ten.

 

“Very well,” King Viserys I said with a sigh, and Rhaenyra was ever so grateful that she had been able to speak to her father alone, or else Alicent’s supporter’s might have been able to dissuade him, “and do you have anyone in mind for Lord Edric Stark?”

 

“Lady Laena Velaryon,” Rhaenyra answered immediately.

 

“She is already betrothed to the son of the Sealord of Braavos, Rhae,” her father informed her with a sigh.

 

Luckily, Rhaenyra already had an argument for such a matter, “yes, and that Sealord’s son, after his father’s death, has squandered all his money and Lord Corlys is desperately trying to postpone the wedding. This way, House Stark is once again tied to House Targaryen, with Laena’s mother being Rhaenys as well as ensuring the continued support of House Velaryon after they were angered when you refused to marry Laena.”

 

King Viserys nodded, “very well, my Heiress, you seem to have it all planned out. Will it be Laenor Velaryon for Raya Stark?”

 

Rhaenyra shook her head, “I was thinking Lord Jason Lannister. The Westerlands is one of the richest areas of Westeros, and has a strong fleet in their harbour at Lannisport. I would also have Lady Victaria Tyrell, the young Lord Lyonel’s sister, married to Lord Laenor Velaryon in order to tie the Reach to the Iron Throne.”

 

In truth, the idea for Victaria and Laenor’s betrothal had been Artos’ idea after she had discussed how Lyonel was too young to be betrothed to any of her relatives, who were all much older, and she told her father so. He seemed impressed by Artos, and by her.

 

“You will make a marvellous Queen, Rhaenyra,” there were no words that brought more joy to her than those.

 

**\----**

**Artos Stark**

Artos Stark smiled at his betrothed as the announcements of the annulment of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce’s marriage was announced, along with the betrothals of Lady Lysara Stark to Prince Daemon Targaryen, Lord Edric Stark to Lady Laena Velaryon, Lady Raya Stark to Lord Jason Lannister and Lord Laenor Velaryon to Lady Victaria Tyrell.

 

Artos had, of course, contacted his father beforehand about all of the betrothals and Rickon Stark had been more than accepting of it, along with informed Artos that his mother was once again with child; Artos had been overjoyed at the idea of a new sibling.

 

What he was not overjoyed about, however, was that after Edric and Laena’s marriage in a moon’s time, they would both head back to the North so that their father could further teach Edric on the running of the North and so that Lady Laena could become acquainted with the far off place that she would one day preside over with Edric.

 

He would miss his older brother dearly, who he had always been close to. But Artos’ place was in King’s Landing.

 

Edric, who was currently spending time with the beautiful Lady Laena in an attempt to get to know her better, had also asked him to be the one who gives him in their marriage ceremony.

 

They would be marrying in a Godswood, as of the Northern custom, upon Lady Rhaenys Velaryon nee Targaryen’s insistence, and the Starks had been more than happy to oblige.

 

Rhaenyra and Laena were close, Artos noticed, and Laena was also beloved by both of his sisters.

 

While Laena was leaving, Lady Victaria had come to Court after the announcememnt of her betrothal. Laenor Velaryon did not spend much time with the pretty Tyrell girl, preferring to spend time with his rumoured lover – Ser Joffery Lonmouth – but they seemed to get along well enough.

 

The peace and joyfulness that Rhaenyra and Artos both felt as their Kingdom fell into place was brought down early, however, when the Queen went into an early labour and gave birth to another son named Prince Aemond Targaryen the day before Edric and Laena’s wedding.

 

It further heightened Rhaenyra’s worry that her people would turn of her in favour of Queen Alicent’s children, and that is when Prince Daemon began to tell them of ‘the blacks’ and ‘the greens’, depriving their names from what the Queen and the Princess had worn upon the Tourney day of the 111th year since Aegon’s Conquest.

 

Their supporters, the Blacks, were currently the Vale – for her mother, Aemma Arryn’s sake; the Riverlands; the Crownlands and some of the Reach, obviously excluding House Hightower.

 

Meanwhile, the Greens supporters currently were: some of the Reach; the Westerlands (Lord Jason Lannister’s father was married to a Lady of House Sarsfield, his third wife and Queen Alicent’s cousin, after all); and one or two Riverlands Houses.

 

It was unknown which sides that House Velaryon, House Tyrell and House Baratheon, amongst others, would take, but now that House Velaryon was tied to House Stark, and House Tyrell to House Velaryon, the Blacks could safely assume that the Reach and House Velaryon would side with them. Though the Stormlands was yet to be known.

 

The next day, Artos tried to cast the worries of the future out if his mind, and simply place a smile upon his face and be there for his brother’s wedding day. Lady Laena looked as beautiful as ever, and Edric too had dressed to impress. Their father and a few Northernmen had travelled up to see the wedding and to take them back to the North afterwards, and Artos had enjoyed seeing his father if only fleetingly.

 

In two moons, House Stark and House Targaryen would be tied through the union of Lysara Stark and Daemon Targaryen; in three moons, House Tyrell would be tied to House Velaryon through the wedding of Laenor Velaryon to Victaria Tyrell; and, finally, in seven moons, House Stark and House Targaryen would join once more with the marriage of Artos Stark to Rhaenyra Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the wedding we've all been waiting for! :)


End file.
